Crack the whip and bring the blood.
Make the leaders take the mud.
We've got the wheels
And we turn them around.
One long hard pull and we're on hard ground,
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaride-i-o, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
On the fourteenth day of October-o,
I hitched my team in order-o
To try the hills
Of Saludio.
Timaro, Timaride-i-o,
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaride-i-o, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
When I got there, the hills were steep,
Would make another person weep
To hear me cuss
And crack my whip.
And see the oxen pull and slip.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaride-i-o, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
When I get home among my friends,
That's where my toil and trouble ends
And bid adieu
To the whip and line.
And ride no more in the winter time.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaride-i-o, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o.
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o,
Timaro, Timaro, Timaride-i-o,
Tima ride-i-o! o! o!
(spoken) Yeah!
Writer(s): Pd Traditional, Keith Leon Potger, Bruce Woodley, Judith Durham, Athol Guy
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